Wishing Lake (5 page)

Ramona smiled in response. But there was a chill in her voice as well as her expression. “Oh, I’m certain the woman the town will elect as my successor will be more than up to the task.”

Darius took that as a direct quote for
The Trinity Falls Monitor
article.

Saturday morning, the first of November, Peyton indulged in breakfast at Books & Bakery. Her seat beside the café window was chilly, but the view was worth the discomfort. The trees lining the streets led her gaze into the nearby neighborhood and the profusion of vibrant autumn colors.

She opened her copy of
The Trinity Falls Monitor
before digging into her breakfast—spinach quiche, fruit, and coffee. Even this far from the café’s kitchen, she could smell the fresh bread, confectioner’s sugar, and homemade soups.

The sound of heels crossing the hardwood floor toward her made her look up. Ramona floated toward her like a runway model on the catwalk. Her tall, slender figure was clothed in a scarlet knee-length sweater dress. Black stiletto boots made her legs look even longer. Her glossy, shoulder-length raven tresses billowed with every step. With her wide ebony eyes and café-au-lait complexion, Ramona reminded Peyton of a young Dorothy Dandridge. She was the type of woman Irene Biery Harris could envision marrying Peyton’s soon-to-be-ex-fiancé, Bruce Grave. Beside Ramona, Peyton must appear as a vertically challenged, mousy shadow.

“May I join you?” Ramona braced her left hand on the back of the chair opposite Peyton. Her right hand held a white porcelain cup of coffee.

Peyton glanced toward the front of the café where Ramona usually shared breakfast with her friends. Jackson, Audra, Ean, Megan, Darius, and Doreen were at the counter.

“Please do.” Peyton pulled her gaze from Darius’s broad shoulders wrapped in an emerald-green sweater.

She was having breakfast with the mayor. At fifteen hundred residents, Trinity Falls wasn’t in the same stratosphere as New York City. Still, she marveled the town’s mayor knew who she was and sought her company.

“What did you think of our council meeting?” Ramona crossed her long dancer’s legs and settled back on her chair.

“I enjoyed it.” Peyton cut another slice of her spinach quiche with a fork.

“We’re not as exciting as New York City.” A slight smile curved Ramona’s pink lips.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t attend city council meetings.”

“I used to live in New York.” Ramona sipped her coffee.

“You did?” Peyton almost choked on her quiche.

Although she knew Ramona planned to join her boyfriend, Dr. Quincy Spates, in Philadelphia in the new year, Peyton couldn’t imagine the mayor living anywhere other than Trinity Falls, Ohio. This was her town.

“I used to think I wanted Trinity Falls to be more like New York—the shops, the culture, the sophistication.” Ramona leaned forward, holding Peyton’s gaze. “Now I realize my hometown has its own identity, and I never want it to lose that.”

“I’ve only been here five months, but I agree with you.” Peyton ate more quiche. In the cozy neighborhood just outside the town center, she witnessed residents greeting each other on the street. “Trinity Falls is a very special place.”

“Yes, it is.” Ramona set her coffee on the table. “That’s one of the reasons I brought up the fundraiser for the community center during the meeting.”

“It sounds like a great idea. Community centers are vital for residents in need.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Ramona rewarded Peyton with a smile. “I’d like you to cochair the fundraising committee.”

Peyton froze with a forkful of quiche in her mouth. Her gaze locked with Ramona’s as she chewed, swallowed, and tried to speak. “You want
me
to cochair the committee?”

“Do you have any experience with fundraisers?”

Peyton searched Ramona’s serious expression. “I’ve volunteered on fundraising committees in the past but—”

“Perfect.” Ramona spread her arms.

“But I barely know the town.”

“You’ll bring fresh ideas to the project.”

“I’ve never even
seen
the center much less used it.”

“You won’t have any preconceived notions of the facilities.”

Peyton sighed. “Ramona, I’m very flattered that you thought of me. But I don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”

“Yes, you are.” Ramona raised her hands to count off the reasons. “You’re new. You’re enthusiastic, and you’re falling in love with my town.”

“Your town?” Peyton gave the mayor a teasing look. “You’re moving to Philadelphia in January.”

“Trinity Falls will always be my town, and I want what’s best for it. Will you help with the fundraiser?”

“You need a chairperson who’s been here longer. Their knowledge of the community would serve the town better.” Peyton nudged aside a cantaloupe chunk with her fork.

“You wouldn’t be leading the committee alone. There are a few people I’ve got in mind to cochair with you.”

“Who?”

“I’d rather wait until I ask them.” Ramona’s smile didn’t inspire trust. “So what do you say? Will you help the town?”

When she put it like that, how could Peyton refuse? “You don’t waste any time, do you? You proposed the fundraiser Tuesday night. It’s only been five days.”

Ramona leaned into the table, propping her chin on her palm. “You strike me as a decisive woman.”

Peyton laughed her surprise. “This is a big decision.”

“But it’s for a very good cause.” Ramona pinched a grape from Peyton’s fruit bowl. “And it will be a good way for you to meet your neighbors and learn more about the community.”

Peyton enjoyed fundraising and she was good at it. She’d learned from the best—her mother. They’d worked together on several university as well as community fundraisers. Ramona was right. She had the experience. Then why was she hesitating?

Because she was afraid she wouldn’t be good enough. This would be her first fundraiser without her mother’s guidance. Could she handle the project without Irene Biery Harris’s help? There was only one way to find out.

“All right.” Peyton set aside her fruit. “I’ll cochair the fundraising committee on—”

“Wonderful.” Ramona clapped her hands together. “You won’t regret—”

“I do have one condition.” Peyton held up both hands, palms out. “The other cochair has to be willing to partner with me. I don’t want to be a part of a project with someone who isn’t willing to work as a team.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to work with you.” Ramona smiled.

“He?” Warning bells chimed in the back of Peyton’s mind.

“Darius.” Ramona looked toward the café counter. “I think this would be a great experience for him as well.”

“Darius?” Peyton’s eyes stretched wide as she, too, turned to look at the reporter. “I don’t know if recruiting him would be such a great idea. He’s going to think you’re playing matchmaker again.”

“I know.” Ramona sighed. “He’s so paranoid. I think it’s the investigative reporter in him.”

“Is he right?”

Ramona held Peyton’s gaze. “What if he is?”

Peyton was both amused and incredulous. “Then I think you and your friends are going to be very frustrated. Darius isn’t interested in me.”

Ramona gave her a secret smile. “What if you’re wrong?”

Alonzo’s doorbell rang just before seven o’clock Sunday evening. The sound reverberated in his chest, causing his heart to skip a beat and his thoughts to scatter.
Doreen
. The time had finally come: November second, the Day of the Dead.

Hosting this celebration for Doreen and their friends was one of the most important things he’d ever done in his life. What if it backfired? Alonzo wiped his damp palms on the seams of his black denim pants, then crossed to his front door. He took a moment to gather himself before pulling it open. Doreen stood on the other side. She took his breath away. She always did. Her smile made his head spin and his body warm.

“I’m glad you came.” Alonzo offered her his hand and helped her across the threshold.

“So am I.” Her voice was warm but a little tentative, as though she wasn’t completely confident of being here.

Alonzo drew her to him to greet her with a kiss. Her coat was cool against his jersey and pants. He drew her closer to share his body heat, then lowered his head to hers. Her lips were soft and sweet, her body yielding in his embrace. Her mouth parted, allowing his tongue to steal inside. Her slender arms slipped over his chest to twine around his neck. Alonzo’s body heated.

With a groan of regret, he stepped back. “You make me lose track of time.”

Doreen opened her eyes and found his gaze. A sexy smile curved her lips. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing.”

“It could be awkward when our guests arrive.” Alonzo took her hand and led her farther into his house.

His modest furnishings were a sharp contrast to her bright and cheerful home. Doreen had teased him repeatedly about his lack of decorating vision. He thought he’d been practical, but she was right. His living room’s dark brown recliner, sofa, and area rug lacked the warmth of Doreen’s pink-and-white furnishings.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Doreen’s attention settled on Alonzo’s dining room table.

“That’s the altar for our Day of the Dead ceremony.” He studied his creation. How would she view it?

He’d spread a gold cloth over the mahogany table. On the center of the table, he’d stacked a purple box on top of a larger red box. He’d arranged glasses of water around the table and lit white votive candles in glass holders. He’d scattered gold, pink, and white marigold petals across the table and over the stacked boxes. A cross stood on one side. The scents of fresh flowers and incense filled the room.

“It’s lovely.” Doreen’s voice was almost reverent.

“Thank you.” He kissed the back of her hand before releasing her.

“Is there anything left to do?” She dragged her gaze from the altar.

“No, thanks. We can wait for the others to join us. I’ve got everything covered.”

He hoped. He had a lot riding on the success of this event. What if Doreen didn’t understand what he was trying to do? What if she misjudged him?

“I’m a little nervous.” Doreen’s laughter was self-conscious. “But I’m looking forward to this ceremony.”

“There’s no reason to be nervous,
mi amor.
This ritual is meant to invoke happy memories only. And to make the dead feel welcome and loved.” Then why did he feel anxious?

Alonzo pulled together crackers from his cupboard, and cheese and a vegetable tray from his refrigerator. Doreen kept him company, asking about his day and telling him about hers. He set the refreshments on the silver Formica counter between his half-kitchen and the dining room. Their banter helped ease his tension and, he hoped, Doreen’s nerves.

His doorbell rang three more times. The first time, it announced Ean, Megan, and Ramona. Minutes later, Jackson and Audra joined them. Finally, Darius escorted Ms. Helen to the event. Alonzo greeted the elderly town matriarch with a hug. Dr. Helen Gaston, or Ms. Helen as Trinity Falls’ residents called her, was timeless.

Alonzo wrapped his left arm around Doreen’s slim waist as he led his friends into his dining room. He didn’t entertain much, which was the exact opposite of Doreen. During the past four months, he’d picked up a lot from her about entertaining. He incorporated that knowledge into the evening as he made his guests comfortable.

“Thank you for coming.” Alonzo released Doreen and crossed to the altar. His gaze swept the small group. They each held a folder, bag, or envelope in which he suspected they carried their photos. “The Day of the Dead isn’t a time for sadness. It’s a time to celebrate and honor our loved ones who’ve died.” He gestured toward the altar. “This is one way for us to remember someone we love who’s passed on.”

Darius indicated the altar. “Are those items symbolic?”

Ramona sighed. “I’m sure Alonzo’s getting to that.”

“It’s all right, Ramona.” Alonzo grinned. “I appreciate Darius’s enthusiasm.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” Darius gave Ramona a triumphant look.

Alonzo continued. “The glasses of water quench the thirst of our loved ones’ spirits. The lit candles guide the spirits on their journey. The marigolds are synonymous with the Day of the Dead. And the incense removes negative energy.”

Darius smiled. “Instead of using incense, we could just ask Ramona to leave.”

“Darius, you’re not helping.” Under Doreen’s firm tone, Alonzo heard a trace of amusement.

He held Doreen’s warm brown eyes. “The most important thing to remember is that this is a celebration of the ones we’ve loved and lost. We’re here to keep their memories alive so they’re never forgotten. I’ll go first.”

Alonzo released Doreen’s gaze and lifted a photo he’d placed on the table behind the altar. “Captain Cesar Vargas.” He stared at the image of the slim, dignified older man in silence for a moment. His friend and former supervisor was in a sheriff’s uniform, including a brown felt campaign hat. He then faced the picture outward so the others could see it. “As you can imagine, Jacksonville, Florida, where I used to work, is very different from Trinity Falls. Captain Vargas called me the son he wished he’d had. That usually meant he needed help with some household project. But he treated me like family and kept me from getting too homesick between trips back to Trinity Falls.”

Alonzo put the photograph of his former mentor on the altar. “Who’s next?”

“Me.” Ms. Helen stepped forward, trading places with Alonzo. The tiny woman pinned the sheriff with a sharp look. “I’m going to get this picture back, right?”

Alonzo smiled from his place at Doreen’s side. “I promise.”

She nodded once in satisfaction, then held a framed black-and-white photo chest high. The picture’s subject was a middle-aged woman. Her twinkling eyes belied her prim expression.

“This is my godmother, Mrs. Cora Mary Covington.” Ms. Helen glanced again at the photo before continuing. “Covington was the family name of her fifth husband. She was my mother’s best friend from childhood. Aunt Cora always used to tell me, ‘Helen, be who God intended you to be and you will set the world on fire.’ I thought she’d made up that saying. I was so impressed. It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized she was quoting Saint Catherine of Siena.”

Ms. Helen turned the picture to study it. “It doesn’t matter, Aunt Cora. You still impressed me. And you inspired me to be the very best I could be.” She placed the photograph lovingly on the altar before returning to stand in front of Darius.

“That’s a great quote.” Darius rested his hand on the tiny woman’s shoulder.

Ms. Helen looked back at the reporter. She squeezed his large hand with her frail one. “It’s advice we can all use.”

Ramona walked to the altar. “I’ve got two.”

“You always were an overachiever.” Darius released Ms. Helen’s shoulder. His teasing eased the growing solemnity.

Alonzo sent the reporter a grateful look. This was a celebration. He didn’t want his guests becoming too serious.

“Thank you, Darius.” Ramona’s wry smile softened her sarcasm. She reached into her manila folder and pulled out a photo of an attractive older couple, laughing at the camera. She propped it on the altar. “My grandparents taught me the value of family and community.”

Megan passed Ramona on her way to the altar. She set a picture of a beautiful young couple, gazing at each other beside the photo Ramona had offered. “I never knew my parents. They died when I was very young. But my grandfather said I inherited my father’s business sense and my mother’s determination.”

“Determination? That’s a polite way of calling you stubborn.” Darius winked at Megan.

Megan’s laughter cleared the cloud of regret from her elegant, cocoa features. “Determined or stubborn, as long as I get my way in the end.”

Ean chuckled as he exchanged places with Megan. “My father encouraged me to set goals.” He put the photo of Paul Fever on the altar. Even in the photo, the tall, good-looking man projected a powerful personality. “This picture was taken during my law school graduation. His grin was so big. I don’t know whether that’s because he was proud of my accomplishment or because he was done with my school bills.”

Alonzo watched Doreen as Ean spoke of his father. A ghost of a smile curved her full lips. Her brown eyes were dreamy. She didn’t seem distressed. What was she thinking? Had he done the right thing, hosting this celebration? He turned his attention back to the ceremony.

Audra placed a photo of a pretty young woman on the altar before facing the group. “My high school music teacher said talent would only get you so far. She challenged me to go even farther. I appreciated her encouragement. Eventually.”

Audra returned to Jackson’s side and nudged him forward.

“My daughter, Zoey.” He placed a photo of a pretty, laughing little girl with long, brown hair beside the image of Audra’s music teacher. “She died just before her ninth birthday.”

“What would you like to tell us about her?” Audra’s voice was encouraging.

Jackson kept his eyes on the image of his daughter. Slowly a smile stretched his lips and brightened his sienna features. He met Audra’s eyes. “She gave me an appreciation for fairy tales.”

Alonzo watched Jackson return to Audra. The two held hands, entwining their fingers. He glanced down at Doreen’s hand. Would she welcome his touch now, or should he wait until the ceremony was over?

He raised his gaze, looking from Darius to Doreen. “Who wants to go next?”

Darius gestured toward Doreen. “Ladies first.”

“You’re always so chivalrous.” Doreen gripped a plain white envelope on her way to the altar. She shot a worried glance at Alonzo, then looked away. “Tonight, I want to celebrate Paul Fever.”

“He’s a good choice,” Alonzo spoke softly.

He hurt for Doreen—for both of them. He wished with all his heart he could convince her that he wasn’t interested in replacing Paul. Even if he wanted to, he knew he never could.

Doreen drew Paul’s photo from the envelope. She took a deep breath before displaying the picture. It was a color image of the tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing a pink-and-white apron as he displayed a tray of fresh-baked cookies.

“Paul taught me that true love is helping the other person to be the best she can be and supporting her goals.” Doreen’s throat muscles worked. “In this photo, he’s helping me bake cookies for a Heritage High School fundraiser.”

“I remember that fundraiser.” Darius continued in a deadpanned voice. “You would have raised more money if he’d just bought the cookies.”

“You’re probably right about that.” Doreen’s laughter joined her friends’. “But his heart was in the right place.”

“Absolutely.” Alonzo grinned.

Doreen left the altar but still wouldn’t meet his gaze. Alonzo’s stomach muscles tightened. Had the Day of the Dead celebration been a bad idea? She seemed to enjoy it, but did she understand why he’d wanted to share it with her? Paul had been his friend, too. He wanted to help her celebrate her late husband. He didn’t want either of them to ever forget him.

“Your turn, Darius,” Alonzo prompted the reporter.

Darius looked at the gift bag in his hand. “My contribution seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I think it’s out of place.”

Alonzo frowned. A quick glance around the room showed he wasn’t the only one baffled by Darius’s words. “We’re celebrating loved ones who are deceased. No one is out of place, Darius.”

The reporter expelled a heavy breath. He emerged from behind Ms. Helen and proceeded with weighted steps to the altar. The black-and-silver gift bag hung from his right hand.

“My deceased loved one isn’t a person but still means a lot to me.” Darius withdrew a photo from the bag and turned it to face his friends. “Most of you will remember Riddler, my black Labrador retriever.”

Mystery solved, Alonzo grinned. He glanced down to find Doreen sharing her smile with him. He slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She didn’t resist him. Perhaps the event had been the right thing to do after all, for him and Doreen as well as for Darius.

“I remember that devil dog. He ate my favorite sandals.” Ramona still held a grudge sixteen years later.

“Only the left one.” Darius seemed compelled to defend his pet.

“And he polished off the ham I’d made for an Easter dinner. The entire ham.” Doreen struggled to maintain her frown, even as a grin threatened.

Darius gave her an innocent look. “That was meant as a compliment.”

“Was there anything Riddler wouldn’t eat?” Megan asked.

“No.” Ean shrugged. “He and Darius were alike that way.”

“That dog followed you everywhere.” Jackson grinned. “You should have named him Shadow.”

Ms. Helen shook her head. “Riddler was the perfect name for Darius’s dog. The Riddler is one of Batman’s more interesting villains.”

Alonzo nodded with agreement. “What did Riddler teach you, Darius?”

“Unconditional love.” Darius placed Riddler’s photo on the altar. In the image, Riddler was attempting to eat a football. “And how to evade the strong safety.”